Fjords Reviews

The bins are back to their corners, colors are covered in suds and spinning—

reflections won’t have any spots clouding likeness when you get home,

thanks to Windex and some friction.

Barely audible within the sixteen hundred square feet of failure,

a rich alto is finding her phrase.

No longer kept to long drives to release pressure by filling the cabin

with song.

A new season etches out the frigid and dismal cadence of winter.

Mossy hues and a growing promise lessen the weight of your daughter’s words

and the monotony of keeping your house.

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